


Thistle & Weeds

by Bakuras



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Angst, Letters, M/M, ishimondo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:52:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakuras/pseuds/Bakuras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[The note is scribbled, words resembling not more than chicken scratch written in lines that go well into the margins of the paper, and it's wet in places, letting the ink splotch slightly, but not enough to be entirely illegible. There are words, phrases, entire lines that have been crossed out or scratched over where nobody can read them, except for a character or two. The paper itself is thick, as though it was meant as some sort of formal document that soon lost its purpose when it began to be written on. The characters are slightly out of shape, like whoever had written it lost control of their hands and shook uncontrollably for several seconds at a time.]</p><p>-</p><p>You lied, you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thistle & Weeds

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Christmas present for my friend because I'm kind of an asshole ooPS
> 
> Anyway figured I'd go ahead and post it here too, uwu

 

[The note is scribbled, words resembling not more than chicken scratch written in lines that go well into the margins of the paper, and it's wet in places, letting the ink splotch slightly, but not enough to be entirely illegible. There are words, phrases, entire lines that have been crossed out or scratched over where nobody can read them, except for a character or two. The paper itself is thick, as though it was meant as some sort of formal document that soon lost its purpose when it began to be written on. The characters are slightly out of shape, like whoever had written it lost control of their hands and shook uncontrollably for several seconds at a time.]

-

You lied, you know.

When you spoke to me, as a ghost. You lied, you lied, you lied and I'm so angry, I am SO ANGRY with you, and _[the rest of the line has soaked off, blotched enough that it cannot quite be read]_

You told me that before I knew it, I would be moving forward again. That this is the way human beings are made, and either you lied, or you couldn't possibly know. You lied,and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't

You said I would move forward, and it's been fifteen years. You, your ghost, whatever it was. You knew nothing and you lied to me.

I have not, and I cannot. I don't know what to do.

I don't have nightmares anymore. I wish I did. I wish my dreams were still of me clawing at the fence until my fingers bled, someone's fingernails sinking into my hips as they pull me down from climbing onto it, of running to you. I could have stopped this, that should have been me, it should've been me. I don't know what to do.

I have good dreams now, and I miss the nightmares.

And it isn't recurring. Not the way the nightmares were.

Last night we went to the park. You were still young. I pushed you on the swing, and you fell off onto the tanbark and yelled at me. I yelled back, and then you _[The rest is crossed out, but halfheartedly, as if it didn't really matter whether it was legible or not.]_

I supposed since you will not read this, telling you that you kissed me isn't horribly inappropriate. Though if you are reading this, I apologize.

You did, and you did every night before that. Somehow it makes everything worse, though I cannot say for sure why. I apologize again.

I wake up from the good dreams and I do not cry the way I did while I was plagued with the nightmares. I simply feel as though I'm dead.

I hear you still. Only in the day. It's pathetic, I know, and you would not approve of me running headlong into the wood beside my house because I feel as though I can save you. And you would not approve, perhaps even moreso, of the way I collapse on the floor of the forest and dig my nails into the dirt and weep it into mud. I am sorry.

...

I hate you, for what you did to me. And

\--

You are not reading this, and yet I hesitate in telling you that I have loved you for fifteen years. I truly am broken, aren't I?

...................

I -

I am not strong like you. I cannot live the way you did, I cannot kiss you in the night and rake my nails down my cheeks during the day. This cannot continue, not for the next forty years of my life. I cannot take it.

...

I hate you, Mondo Oowada. And I love you so much that it is beginning to literally kill me.

I am coming to see you. Now.

And should you end up where I am not, I will dive into the bowels of hell and carry you out on my own back, just as I tried to so long ago. But I will not fail this time.

...

...

I am ready.

_I will see you soon, kyodai._


End file.
